If It's Love
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Matters of the heart were sometimes harder for Vince McMahon to manage than all of the Superstars in his empire. *Warning: contains implied m/m slash*


**If It's Love**

"Randy Orton to see you, sir."

The voice of Vince McMahon's secretary warbled across the intercom. Taken aback by the announcement, the CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment examined his day planner. He had no such appointment with Orton. IN fact, his earliest appointment was scheduled an hour away. Which was why he occupied his time playing Doodle Jump.

It was not like Randy to simply drop by. His reasons must have been urgent to show up on Vince's doorstep so suddenly.

Putting aside his iPhone, Vince pressed the button on the intercom. "Send him in."

He greeted Randy at the door. Orton was one of his prime Superstars. He deserved the hands on treatment. Shaking Randy's hand, Vince guided him to the chair. "What can I do for you, son?"

Randy smiled at his boss. It was a nervous smile. Tensely stretched across his face. His eyes flickered around the room, not staying on Vince for more than a second or two. "Mr. McMahon, can I ask you a personal question?"

Sitting on the edge of the desk, Vince wondered what kind of trouble the young man had gotten himself into. Randy wiped his sweaty palms across the fabric of his pants. He chewed his bottom lip like an over-energized gerbil. As Orton tapped out a sonata on his kneecap, Vince worried that one of his best athletes was about to make a life changing revelation. Even before he knew, exactly, what he was dealing with, Vince imagined the PR firestorm he might face. "Drugs, sex, or money?"

Randy's eyes grew wide. His fingers ceased their tapping. Instead, they gripped the arms of the chair tight. "What? … I don't even… _What?_"

The boy wasn't acting. Of that, Vince was certain. No one played shocked that well. Even if part of their business was stage performance. His shoulders relaxed as relief flowed through him. Nothing illegal. No gambling debts come due. No high end call girl trying to extort cash from a flush mark. Vince still had one other base to cover. "Did you get anyone pregnant? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"_No!_" Randy's voice shot up an octave. He sounded like he had just sat down on a pissed off jelly fish. "I'm not… I haven't… How would I?"

Vince folded his arms across his chest. "It's not that difficult, son. If MTV is any accurate judge, it seems to happen quite easily. In my day, if a teenage girl turned up pregnant, she did not get her own TV show. She either got married or disowned. Not her picture in a magazine." Times might have changed, but Vince was an old codger at heart. Knew how to tuck in his shirt and not have his pants hanging down around his knees. As he watched Orton fidget in the chair, he realized the youth truly was wasted on the young.

"Mr. McMahon, I came here for advice. Not a lecture."

Well, if it was advice young Randy was after, Vince had plenty to give. "Alright, then. What can I help you with?"

Putting the unpleasant interaction out of his mind, Randy unloaded his dilemma. "I just want you to know that I only ask this because I respect you and your opinion."

"Duly noted."

Randy cleared his throat a few times. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips. "Seeing as you and Mrs. McMahon have been together for a few decades, I was wondering… How did you know?"

"Know what?"

More throat clearing on Randy's part. "That you were in love, sir."

Eyebrows raised high, Vince let out a long whistle. So that's what the issue was! Cupid had shot one of his arrows into Orton's derriere. Explained the twitchy behavior. Being smitten did that to a man. Messed him up good. There had been times during his courting days when he would have given his left nut for a glimpse of Linda's upper thigh.

"When making that special someone happy trumps your own happiness." Vince smiled as he thought back. Rifled through the drawers of his memory. "Now, my Linda loved to dance. Still does, actually. Got some pretty good moves. Could put some of the current performers to shame, I'll tell you that much. Anyway, my Linda loved nothing more than cutting a rug on a Friday night. Not me, though." Vince chuckled to himself. "Oh, no. I've got two left feet and they always ended up stepping on hers. But every Friday night, never fail, I took her out dancing. Don't know how she managed to walk the next day, considering all the toe stomping I did."

"That's how you knew, isn't it?" Randy's nerves had dissipated. He sat back comfortably in his chair. "You put Linda's happiness before your poor motor skills."

Vince took the good-natured ribbing as it was intended. He had to admit being less than graceful on the dance floor. "Nope. That's when I knew _she_ loved _me_. That woman put up with me week after week and never complained. Not once. I might have looked like a doped up giraffe playing Twister, but I was _her_ giraffe. Which was why I made sure to take lessons before our wedding. So she could have one pleasant experience of the two of us on the dance floor." He stood up and placed a hand on Randy's shoulder. "That help any, son?"

A smile slowly spread across Randy's face. Not tense at all, this time. Rather sweet and sincere. His bright eyes looked almost hopeful. "Yes, sir. A whole lot, in fact." He stood and shook Vince's hand. "Thanks, Mr. McMahon. I… umm… I have to make a phone call… Right away, actually."

Vince walked Randy out of his office. The young man stepped to the side as he pulled out his cell phone. Vince wondered if the girl that had won Orton's heart was pretty. Nothing like a pretty face to come home to every day. Which reminded him…

"Hey, Sally?" Vince leaned over the barrier surrounding his secretary's desk. He waited until her fingers stopped flying across her keyboard before continuing. "Get my florist on the phone. Tell him I need him to deliver ten roses to my wife."

Sally looked her employer squarely in the eye. "Ten, sir?"

"Yes, Sally." Vince offered her a small smile. "Ten. A flower for every toe I stepped on."

As he strolled back towards his office, Vince managed to overhear a piece of Randy's conversation. "Yeah, John… I'm sure… I know what I said, but I changed my mind. So you and me, okay? This Saturday. In that leaky tub you call a fishing boat." A soft chuckle from the young man gave Vince pause. He knew that kind of laugh. "Right… Crack of dawn, even if you have to haul my ass out of the bed yourself… See you tonight… Love you, smartass."

Randy disconnected the call. Vince pretended he hadn't heard a word. He simply walked into his office, humming a happy little tune to himself. Maybe later tonight he would take his Linda for a twirl around their living room. Doing his damnedest not to step on her toes too badly.

**END**


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